


The Butterfly Murders.

by Glorfindel



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Butterflies, England (Country), Gen, Humour, Journey, London Underground, interesting and unusual deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Manwe orders Lord Namo to go to modern day Middle-earth and bring back the elves who stayed and never made the journey to Valinor. </p><p>There is a tiny problem in achieving what should be a simple task.</p><p>The Crystal Bridge, spanning the two continents is in a bad state of disrepair and might not hold the weight of the elves before it collapses, so what is Namo to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Betad by Keiliss - thank you :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I seek no financial reward. All characters, the Crystal Bridge, Valinor and Middle-earth belong to the Tolkien Estate.

Námo’s POV

**Prologue.**

 

Manwë sat on his throne, his eyes staring ahead, seeing but unseeing, as he silently communicated with Lord Eru. The wind ruffled his hair and the eagles swooped and dived, their cries disturbing the silence. Meanwhile, I waited.

 

It was some time before Manwë shifted his gaze.  I admit to becoming impatient well before he did so. The stick I like to carry, my only affectation, beat a smart tattoo on the blue and gold tiles beneath my feet for quite a while before his attention to Lord Eru wavered. Manwë’s black eyes regarded me thoughtfully before his mouth opened to speak. It was as though he doubted my ability; to do what I had no idea.

 

“Lord Eru has decided that all the elves remaining in Middle-earth are to be collected and brought back to Valinor. The crystal bridge spans the ocean still, but after many thousands of years it is fragile and cannot support the weight of a group of elves, so you will have to collect their fëa instead and bring them back that way. Happily, now they are all in the same country, England to be exact, your mission will be easier.”

 

“Am I to kill them?”

 

“Do I even need to answer that?” Manwë shook his head and sighed as if disappointed already.

 

 

 


	2. The Crystal Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namo crosses the Crystal Bridge.

 

 

The crystal bridge is indeed frail, but a beautiful sight nonetheless. Large fissures crackled through the crystal, causing a mosaic effect in the supporting arcs. I walked over the apex of the curve, wondering if the timing of my mission depended on the bridge still being intact. If so, this really would be the last opportunity for the elves to return. Glints of sunlight sparkled on the surface beneath my feet and the water spray appeared as rainbow diamonds when the refracted crystal light shone through the fall of droplets.

 

I stepped onto the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, the waves lapping around my feet, and walked to the shore, several hundred yards away.

 

Before I left Valinor, Manwë presented me with a map that had been drawn to Lord Eru’s specifications. The beach was in a county known as Devon and fringed with large grey cliffs. I was to the north, at Morte Point to be exact, an apt place name considering the nature of my mission. I do not think anyone saw me walking across the sea. It would not have mattered if they did; reason would abound and logic would prevail, as it always does.

 

I needed to be inland, on the other side of the county. I walked to Woolacombe, a settlement some way up from where I stepped on land. On the outskirts of the village stood a guest house; it was perfectly positioned for what I intended next. The wrought iron gate creaked as it opened. Either side of the path grew hollyhocks, foxgloves, roses and other perennials. Among the plants I could see a stray nettle or two but they are the most perfidious of weeds to eradicate so I was not surprised. In front of me was a large black door with a brass lion knocker. I knocked twice, maintaining the firm belief that the occupants would surely own a method of transport that could convey me to my intended destination. A small, middle aged woman answered the door. Vertical lines edged her lips and her eyes screwed up behind her glasses as she stared at me. She wiped her hands on a tea towel before tucking it into a pocket on the front of her floral apron. A man appeared behind her.

 

“Who is it?” he asked her before looking at me.

 

“Do you have the means to take me to Lyme Regis in Devon?” I asked as pleasantly as a Vala of Death can.

 

They stared at me, not daring to speak. No doubt they were terrified because I let their minds know my identity.

 

“If you take me to Lyme Regis I will grant you extra years of life.” I lied. I do not have the power to hold off death among humans, nor have I the inclination; they are so short lived that I cannot keep up with them. However, I had elves to collect, so all finer feelings had to be brushed aside. The Crystal Bridge would only hold for a short time and I wanted to go back home as quickly as possible.

 

They wavered, so I put it into their minds that they wanted to help me above anything else they had planned to do that day. I followed the man, whom I suspect was married to the woman, to a garage that held a small yellow mini car. My knees were just under my chin when I sat on the seat, affording my host much amusement.

 

He drove me to Lyme Regis in Devon, hardly speaking a word because I had put it into his head that we were to have silence. I needed to think about the task ahead and did not need him continually chuckling about how I should have chosen a person who owned a larger car.

 

 


	3. Rumil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namo collects Rumil, who is very unhappy at having to leave his art gallery business. Butterflies abound!

 

 

 

Rúmil was my first victim. I pushed him in front of a lorry just after he had locked up his art gallery. He charged the most outrageous prices for the daubs, so I felt justified in doing so. I have probably saved the population of Lyme Regis a lot of money that would be better spent elsewhere.

 

“You bastard,” he screamed as his fëa rose from his body. He tried to punch me, but his fist passed through my head. Undeterred he lost his temper even more and tried again, several times. It is fortunate that I can assume a non-solid mass at will; otherwise I would have been sorely tempted to punch him back.

 

“Lord Eru has decreed that all the remaining elves will go to Valinor,” I told him as he aimed yet another punch. “I have to take your fëa back. The Crystal Bridge is in such a shocking state of disrepair that it cannot support the weight of an elf.”

 

Crowds gathered around Rúmil’s body. No one saw me push him into the lorry’s path because I did not want them to. Even Rúmil had not seen me, although he had certainly felt the sideways shove of my hand. Upon a whim, I moved my fingers in an almost imperceptible circle and a swarm of butterflies rose from Rúmil’s prone and tyre tracked body. They flew away and the crowd gasped in wonder. It really was a most glorious sight; one that I suspect none in the crowd will ever forget.

 

“Well, I am not going, and that is that,” Rúmil said defiantly.

 

A thin strand of light emerged from his fëa and wound around my wrist. “Yes you are.”

 

 

Rúmil complained incessantly about being killed. It really was most irritating and I heartily wished that I had killed him last. As we walked past an Ironmonger’s shop, on our way to the bus station, I saw something called ‘duct tape’ advertised in the window. Apparently, when it is applied it holds anything fast. If only it could hold a fëa’s mouth shut. I would have stolen some if it could.

 

“We have to travel by bus to a place called Exeter, according to this map,” I said, ignoring Rúmil’s ceaseless witterings about how hard done by he was.

 

“We have to travel on a bus?” Rúmil looked horrified. “I refuse to travel with poor people.”

 

“There is no other way of getting to London. We will go to Exeter and travel on a train to London,” I explained.

 

“Who are you collecting next?”

 

“I am not telling you, just in case you find a way to forewarn him.”

 

“There is a way to reach London without having to go to all that trouble,” Rúmil smirked. “The gallery has a delivery van, but I doubt you can get to London in it after killing me. The police tend to take a very dim view of stealing from murder victims. I have a Jag, but I am damned if I am going to let you drive that.”

 

“What is a Jag?”

 

“It is a luxury car. You are not driving it. It is mine.”

 

“How can it be? You are dead. On the other hand, you could drive us up to London.”

 

“How can I? I am dead.” Rúmil looked triumphant.

 

“Ah well, it is the bus for us then,” I said with a smile, knowing that he was annoyed at my indifference to his bragging. “Come along.”

 

We boarded the X53 Jurassic Coast bus, which stopped just outside the Post Office.  I picked the window seat because I knew it would annoy Rúmil; however, I felt perfectly justified, after all the scenery was new to me but he knew it like the back of his hand.

 

“Why is it called the Jurassic Coast bus?” I asked.

 

“Because there are a load of dinosaur bones in the cliffs and on the beach. It is a World Heritage Site, not that it would mean anything to you,” Rúmil replied, as if bored.

 

“So the whole of the coast is a graveyard? Why is there pride in trampling over the remains of the long dead? I would keep quiet about it if I was running this town.”

 

“Well you are not running this town and furthermore there is a lot of money to be made in selling fossils.” Rúmil gave me his best smirk but I refused to acknowledge it, thus driving him further into his fury.

 

We arrived in the City of Exeter and made our way to the train station, Exeter St. David’s, whereupon we boarded a train bound for London. Rúmil was singularly unimpressed that I had no knowledge of the history of the building. I had no idea he was such a history fiend, nor did I care. After telling me that the building was over one-hundred and sixty years old and built by a man with the unlikely name of Isambard Kingdom Brunel, he sighed with disgust because I did not seem impressed to an orgasmic level. In fact, I was not impressed at any level and wondered if he thought me a fool. I truly doubt any human would be saddled with a name like that.

 

Rúmil pretended to sleep throughout the whole journey. He peeped when he thought I was not looking. We exited at Waterloo station, passing a myriad of food shops on our way out of the building. Rúmil became quite excited and requested that we go to Burger King because he was starving. I looked at him coolly; his plump cheeks evidence that he did not know the true meaning of the word.

 

"How can you be starving? You are dead."

 

"I have spent all my life avoiding junk food and now I want some," he demanded.

 

"Why did you avoid it?"

 

"Because fatty food is bad for the heart."

 

"You are an elf. All it will do is make you fat. However, that is academic now." I smirked at him because I could.

 

"Bastard," I heard him mutter. It made no difference to me.

 

The street outside was filled with slow moving traffic and hurrying people. Everyone had somewhere to go and they wanted to get there as fast as possible. How stressful their lives must be, I reflected. Although, I suppose the scene was not wildly different from that in Alqualondë during market days.

 

 


	4. Haldir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haldir is not at all gracious about being collected to go back to Valinor. He was sitting with two customers in a restaurant garden, about to enjoy a glass of wine, when his life changed forever. Namo wonders if his task can get any worse. Butterflies abound!

 

“We have to travel to East Sheen,” I said to Rúmil the next morning. We had spent the night in an unoccupied hotel room in a four star hotel. Not that we needed the sleep, but I could not approach my next victim until midday, and so we had a whole night to waste until that happened. It was better to spend it in comfort than on the streets of a place I had no knowledge of. “We are going to visit a restaurant there.”

 

We made our way to the black cab stand in Cab Street, part of the Waterloo Station complex. I told the driver that he had an overwhelming desire to take us to our destination free of charge.  All through the journey he talked about how amazed he was that he was driving a long range fare for no reward at all. He seemed a happy sort while driving us. I expect he would be very annoyed when the effect wore off and he found himself in a London backwater minus a significant amount of fare money.

 

We stopped outside a Brasserie called The Barking Pig. The wide frontage was filled with tables and chairs, fashioned in white painted, decorative wrought iron, sitting under large dull green canopies. The property was ringed with an open fence with vines running through the trellises. In all, it looked very pretty. Two ladies sat opposite one another; they were talking to an elf with blond hair just past his shoulders. Haldir is an attractive elf and always did possess a charming manner so it was no surprise to me that they invited him to share a drink with them.

 

“Dear Ladies,” he smiled winningly. “Let me get another bottle and we shall have it on the house.”

 

The ladies were very agreeable to a free drink. Haldir pulled a bottle and three glasses from behind his back, causing his companions to laugh in merriment and remark how clever he was. He could not see Rúmil or me; if he had been able to I doubt he would have been so jolly.

 

Rúmil shook his head in disgust. “He does this every day,” I told my reluctant friend. “This is how he lives his life.”

 

“What a waste,” Rúmil muttered.

 

“How is it a waste? He enjoys his life and runs a very successful restaurant. Most of the work is done by others but I think he does so well because he sits with the clients and they find him charming and entertaining. How fulfilling it must be for him.” I looked at Rúmil. “You are jealous. He is having a better time than you did.”

 

“I am not jealous.” Rúmil looked green with envy. “I bet he wants them in his bed.”

 

“I think not. He is flirting outrageously, but not interested in bedding either one of them. He is not inclined towards the female form, from what I can tell in his mind.”

 

“You read minds?” Rúmil looked outraged; a look he does so well. “You had better not be reading mine.”

 

“If I did I would fall asleep with boredom,” I snapped. “In fact, I might never wake up.”

 

We stood watching for a few moments more until Rúmil announced that he was bored. With a sigh I walked up to where Haldir was sitting. Call me soft hearted but I would have liked Haldir to enjoy a few more minutes alive. However, we were delaying the inevitable by procrastinating. My hand reached into his chest and closed around his heart. He gripped his chest tightly and managed to squeak to his alarmed companions to get help. His rosy cheeks turned pale and his lips turned blue; a fine sheen of sweat covered his skin. One of the ladies ran inside, shouting for them to call for an ambulance while the other held Haldir’s head to her almost non-existent bosom. Haldir’s eyes slowly closed and he stopped breathing.

 

One of the waiters ran outside and grabbed hold of Haldir, causing me to nearly lose my grip on his heart, and laid him on the ground. With both hands grasped into a fist he pushed onto Haldir’s chest and compressed it fifteen times. I know the number because he counted out loud with each push. Then he closed his lips over Haldir’s and breathed air into his lungs. This went on for about a minute with my hand still holding his heart. When his fëa rose from his body I let go. There was no turning back. Haldir was dead. By this time some of the diners had rushed out to help and one of them was a doctor who took over compressing Haldir’s chest so the other one could breathe into him.

 

My hand moved imperceptibly and a swarm of butterflies flew from Haldir’s lifeless body, causing the diners to gasp in amazement. I looked at Rúmil watching the butterflies and was momentarily surprised when a severe blow to my face knocked me backward. I look back now and wonder why I did not dematerialise as I had when Rúmil tried to punch me. It is of no consequence; Haldir’s blow did not cause any damage to me because I am a Vala and above letting such things affect me.

 

“You bastard!” Haldir yelled furiously as he tried to hit me again. He aimed a kick, which just missed my right hip because I had the wit to dematerialise a split second before. Haldir could see me as if flesh and blood but he could not touch me, which was lucky because the insane elf jumped in the air and his boots passed right through my abdomen. “What right did you have to kill me? PUT ME BACK RIGHT NOW!”

 

“I cannot. Your brain has died. Also, Lord Eru would be extremely angry with me if I did.” I stood up and did my best to look awesome.

 

“What’s it got to do with him?” the angry one screeched at me, obviously unimpressed. If only his ladies could see him now. He glared at Rúmil. “Did you tell him to do this to me?”

 

“No. He killed me as well,” Rúmil replied, not looking very happy at all. “I had a really happy life running an art gallery and he pushed me in front of a lorry.”

 

“Lord Eru has decreed that all the remaining elves are to return to Valinor. The Crystal Bridge is in a shocking state of disrepair and cannot hold heavy loads, so I can only take your fëar across.”

 

“Well why doesn’t he fix it?” Haldir demanded, still seething with rage.

 

“I have no idea,” I replied as I caught a thin strand of light from his fëa and wrapped it around my wrist. “You are bound to me now. Let’s go.”

 

“Where are we going next?” Rúmil asked dejectedly.

 

“We are probably going to watch him murder someone else,” Haldir sniped. I did consider that perhaps I should have done my homework to divine those who would be more resistant to my efforts and leave them until last. It was done now. Surely Haldir and Rúmil must be the worst of the elves. I hoped so, but even I doubted it.

 

 


	5. Maglor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namo collects Maglor - who is only too ready to give up his fea and go with him. Maglor is unimpressed with Haldir and Rumil. Has Namo found an ally at last? Butterflies abound!

 

“We are going to a care home in Richmond.” I was pleased to see that both elves were mystified. “One of our number is resident there. For him this will be a true release indeed. Do not let his first impressions of you be ones of unfriendliness.”

 

Neither elf looked impressed, in fact they looked as disbelieving as they could. I made them walk all the way to Richmond. Haldir observed several times that property values in Richmond were less than in East Sheen, as if that should mean anything to a dead elf. Rúmil told him that while the prices were high they were even more so in Lyme Regis.

 

“This is why I stopped talking to you,” Haldir announced. “You always have to go one better. Don’t you?”

 

“Quiet!” I ordered in my Vala of Death voice. They stood staring at me, looking less awed than they should have been.

 

Haldir muttered that I was a git and Rúmil agreed with him. At least if they were opposed to me they would have a point in common.

 

We arrived outside a care home that looked like two ordinary houses joined together. The door opened because I made it do so. The locks on a security door inside failed as well. None of the staff could see us, which I suppose was fortunate for them.

 

We walked through the house and into the back garden where a twisted form sat in a wheelchair. He was shaded by a sun umbrella, and to his right was a fishpond with a tiny fountain. Clouds of midges flew over the pond. Two open water lilies floated on the surface. A sparkling drink lay untouched beside him. I wondered how he was to drink it.

 

“Who is he?” Rúmil asked.

 

“Maglor.”

 

“Why is he like that?” Haldir asked.

 

“He is cursed by Sauron.”

 

“But Sauron is dead.”  I saw that nothing could ever escape Haldir’s amazing powers of logic.

 

“The curse remained. Maglor was twisted in body but his mind remained so he would always know the true awfulness of his position. He is unable to move, but he was not always like this. He was cursed to endure his misfortune at length.”

 

“How sad,” Rúmil said quietly. Haldir nodded.

 

I lifted Maglor’s head as far as I could; his chin was embedded into his chest and I could not move it very far. His stiff joints were set almost permanently in place. Reading his mind, I could tell he was used to unending pain but was unable to vocalise his distress. Desperation resonated from him and I grieved at his anguish. Here was an elf only too ready to end his existence. His large brown eyes looked into mine and I felt his mind say, “Please. Please end this. Don’t leave me. Take me with you.” He knew who I was and had prayed to the Valar for thousands of years that I would set him free.

 

“I will,” I said softly. His fëa did not resist me. I reached into his mind and pulled it free from his physical existence.

 

Maglor’s body slowly unfolded, as if he expected to feel pain. It was a humbling experience for us all and I was glad that Haldir and Rúmil said nothing.

 

“I never thought this day would come,” he said softly. He looked at me, trying hard to control his emotion. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

 

My finger turned in a slight circle and a swarm of butterflies flew away, as if from Maglor’s body. One of the care assistants ran into the garden, her faced filled with wonder.

 

“Did you see the butterflies Maglor?” she asked in a loud, cheerful voice as she sat beside him, unaware that he was dead. It would be hard to tell anyway because of how twisted his body had been. “Did you see the butterflies? I wonder where they came from. They were all different colours.” She picked up the drink and positioned the straw between Maglor’s lips. “Have some lemonade. It is a hot day today, isn’t it?” The straw fell away from Maglor’s unmoving lips. “Don’t want it? I will get some ice. I think your drink will not be as cold as it was. Or I could get you a new lemonade if you prefer?” Her hand stroked Maglor’s head, as if feeling for a response, and realisation set in. “Oh, Maglor...” She stroked his hair again before running into the house.

 

“Time for us to leave,” I announced.

 

“Poor Ellen,” Maglor said, his voice filled with sadness.

 

Ellen and an older woman rushed out of the house, into the garden. “Poor Maglor,” the older woman said. “According to his notes, we are not to revive him.” The identity badge around her neck gave her name as Jenny.

 

“Thank the Valar for that,” Maglor chuckled half-heartedly. He walked over to Ellen; passing straight through her while announcing that he had been set free.

 

She shuddered and then smiled. “I think that Maglor will have gone to a much better place.”

 

“If you believe in such things,” Jenny replied, not unkindly.

 

“Before Maglor was unable to talk he used to pray all the time. I used to hear him asking the Lord to deliver him.”

 

“What god would allow someone to suffer as he did?” Jenny released the brake on the wheelchair and wheeled him towards the door. “Make sure the other residents are out of the hall. We do not want to distress them. After that, you and Susan can wash and dress him while I ring the doctor for the death certificate.”

 

“Okay. Did you see the butterflies just before? That must have been when he died.”

 

“How odd. There was something on the news today about butterflies around a dead body in East Sheen.”

 

“We must be having a butterfly summer,” Ellen said happily before going inside.

 

“Let’s go,” I said to Maglor. “We have more elves to collect. The crystal bridge is in danger of collapse, so I have been ordered by Lord Eru to bring home only the fëar of the elves who remained here.”

 

“I am forgiven?” Maglor asked, not daring to hope.

 

“You have been here a long time. It is time to go home.”

 

While Maglor was emotional, Rúmil and Haldir looked on, obviously affected but managing to hide it. I am the Vala of Death; I can tell these things.

 

“Let’s get on with it. Where is the next elf you are going to deprive of a meaningful life?” Haldir said impatiently. Rúmil nodded in agreement. Maglor looked disapprovingly but said nothing.

 

“He lives in a houseboat moored on the Thames,” I replied.

 

“How do you intend murdering him?”

 

“I, for one, do not look upon my release as murder,” Maglor told him.

 

“We don’t care what you think,” Rúmil told him. “You had a horrible life and we did not. Neither of us wanted to die.”

 

“Nevertheless, you did,” Maglor told them. “What is done, is done: a lesson I learnt at leisure over an unimaginable period of time. Get on with your existence and stop complaining; at least you have one.”

 

“I am glad Námo has a friend,” Haldir said dryly.

 

“They will be shagging each others’ arses next,” Rúmil muttered. I glared at him and he looked away.

 

“Let’s walk to the train station,” I said brightly. Maglor walked alongside me and we ignored Haldir and Rúmil. Their lines of light still encompassed my wrist so they could not run off anywhere.

 

 


	6. Celeborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namo collects a rather drunk Celeborn - who is entertaining friends on his Thames houseboat. Celeborn is outraged that Namo spoilt his fun and demands to be put back into his body. Haldir and Rumil continue to snipe at Namo, even though they urge him to kill Celeborn because they find him annoying. Butterflies abound!

 

We went to Richmond Underground station, which is not underground at all, and travelled on the District line to Earls Court before catching a train to Fulham Broadway. Rúmil and Haldir complained all the way there. They were hungry. They were thirsty. They were bored. Maglor simply took joy in being able to move again. He was having a wonderful time. Celeborn owned a houseboat permanently moored on the river; it took us seventeen minutes to get there after alighting from the second train. I know this because I had to endure every single one of them with the two elves behind me complaining loudly and repetitively about their plight. If I told them to be quiet they would do it all the more, so I said nothing.

 

“Some very rich people live in these houses; I should imagine,” Maglor said as he stared at the large houses.

 

“Such an innocent,” Haldir sniped.

 

“I was rich before I was murdered,” Rúmil said petulantly.

 

“So was I,” Haldir agreed.

 

“Wealth is worth nothing if not accompanied by health,” Maglor said with a smile. “It buys a more comfortable version of misery, but that is all.”

 

“We were healthy,” Haldir protested.

 

Maglor shrugged and said nothing, the smile never leaving his face.

 

We saw Celeborn on the deck area of a large houseboat moored on the River Thames. A soft breeze came from the seaward direction. In the near distance we could see Battersea Bridge.

 

Celeborn was holding court to several companions. They were drunk and talking loudly, roaring with laughter at the least thing any of them said. The old Lord of the Golden Wood sat like a glorious lion surrounded by fawning admirers and he was enjoying every minute of it.

 

“And so I told PJ that he had already upset a load of those adorable fanfic ladies by leaving out Glorfindel, when he made Lord of the Rings, and they would positively lynch him if he introduced a female love interest for Legolas.” Celeborn chuckled, his alcohol-red cheeks shining in the sunlight. “Poor chap. Had to spell it out for him. Didn’t understand what I meant. Thought no one was interested in elves.” His clipped vowels irritated my ears. He never used to speak like that.

 

“Probably a virgin. They have no idea about love,” one of the ladies remarked, a malicious smile playing on her lips.

 

“Apparently he is not, although one could well believe it if he was,” Celeborn replied as if imparting a delicious secret.

 

“But Legolas was never in the Hobbit. These bloody filmmakers do what they bloody well please.” One of the men opposite announced. He was dressed in a dark blue blazer, sporting a nautical badge on the pocket, and cream trousers.  He took a swig from the drink in his glass and set it down firmly before him.

 

“I say, who would like some more drinkies?” Celeborn snapped his fingers and a man from inside the boat attended him.  “Bring lots of drink for my wonderful friends. Hop to it.”

 

“Yes Sir,” the man said before turning. He sighed with distaste when Celeborn slapped his bottom and announced what a, ‘lovely firm arse’ he had.

 

“Kill him now,” Haldir demanded. “He always was an annoying shite.”

 

“Kill him and leave him here,” Rúmil said.

 

The man brought out three jugs filled with a dark amber liquid. Slices of cucumber and orange adorned the jug rim while strawberries and bits of greenery floated on top. He went back inside the boat without saying a word.

 

“I would kill for a Pimms right now,” Rúmil said longingly.

 

“It looks very interesting,” Maglor remarked. “I wonder if they have such a drink where we are going.”

 

“Probably not,” Haldir said gloomily.

 

“Oh Cel,” one of the ladies said in a particularly shrill voice. “Why don’t you show everyone your strawberry trick?”

 

Celeborn’s sycophantic guests all agreed that they would like to see his trick and so he fished two small strawberries out of the jug.

 

“I throw them up in the air and catch them with the tip of my tongue. Anyone can do that, right?” The group agreed noisily. “Well, when I catch the strawberry with my tongue I flick it back into the air and it lands in a wineglass over the other side of the table.”

 

There was not a single soul at the table who warned against the folly of catching small fruit in one’s mouth.

 

“This is where he dies, isn’t it?” Haldir said, a grin on his face. He really did not like Celeborn.

 

“You are not as stupid as you look,” I replied.

 

We watched as Celeborn threw a strawberry up in the air and catch it on his tongue; however, the small fruit flipped to the back of his throat, whereupon it dropped down his trachea and lodged in the entrance to his right lung. He never felt a thing because that was how I wanted it.

 

“I must have swallowed it. Never mind. Let’s try again.” Celeborn flipped another strawberry up in the air. This time the strawberry blocked off the airway to his left lung.

 

Panic and mayhem would accurately describe the next few minutes. One of the party tried slapping Celeborn hard on the back as he fought for air. When that did not work he subjected Celeborn to a series of abdominal thrusts. Another tried chest compressions while another breathed air into his chest, remarking that his chest was not rising up when he tried to breathe into him. Two of the ladies ordered the man who served them to ring an ambulance and he replied that he had already done so. Poor Celeborn, he was dead by the time they admitted defeat.

 

I reached into Celeborn’s body and pulled his fëa free. A swarm of butterflies rose from his body causing the small party to gasp with amazement. One of the ladies said that when saints died butterflies rose from their bodies. One of the men remarked drily that he did not think Celeborn would be going upstairs but it was extremely likely that he would be going in a downwards direction.

 

“What the fuck?” Celeborn exclaimed. “I was enjoying myself.”

 

“Hit him,” Haldir advised. “I did.”

 

“Look, how dare you kill me in front of my friends. Your behaviour is insupportable.”

 

“He has dreadful manners. Doesn’t he?” Haldir said about me. “Murdering elves with no warning at all. Who does he think he is?”

 

“His behaviour is bloody outrageous,” Celeborn agreed. He poked me on the shoulder. “What have you got to say for yourself? Put me back in my body this instant, or else...”

 

“Or else what?”

 

Celeborn sighed and walked away. The paramedics arrived and stuck a tube down his throat.

 

“Best not to look,” Maglor said gently. He put his arm around Celeborn’s shoulder and guided him away.

 

“But they could save my life.”

 

Maglor shook his head. “If the Vala of Death takes your fëa there is no going back.”

 

Celeborn looked dejected. “Where now?”

 

 “Lord Eru desires the return of all the elves in Middle-earth, and so it will be done, but, as the Crystal Bridge is in such a bad state of disrepair and about to fall down, I have to take your fëa back instead of your physical form. Fortunately, the remaining elves are all in England. It is as though you all intended returning at some point and were living here waiting for the call.” I smirked, even though I should not have done.

 

“Oh, how wonderful,” Celeborn said, not meaning it at all. “Why did my death have to be so horrible, you sick bastard?”

 

“Mine was just as bad,” Haldir remarked. “He squeezed the life out of my heart.”

 

“He pushed me in front of a lorry and made me travel on public transport afterwards,” Rúmil whined. “Maglor didn’t have a horrible death.”

 

“Maglor gave his fëa willingly. Would any of you have agreed to die?” I asked them. “I thought not. Now stop your witterings. We are off to London Zoo, whether you like it or not.”

 

A thin thread of light wrapped around my wrist to stop Celeborn running away. He pronounced it as another example of my horridness, which I ignored.

 

 

 


	7. Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil is extremely annoyed. In fact, he is going to put in a complaint about Namo and take it all the way to the top if he has to! Butterflies abound!

 

 

We made our way to Fulham Broadway. Maglor walked silently beside me while the others straggled behind, loudly discussing how unfair everything was. I was glad that no one could see or hear us.

 

We travelled on the District Line to Embankment and then changed to a northward bound train on the Bakerloo Line. After alighting at Regent’s Park we walked through Park Square and then along the Broadwalk to the other side of the park. After curving around the Outer Circle we reached the entrance to the zoo. It was a couple of hours before closing time but people still queued to get in. We walked through them, literally, and went inside the grounds.

 

“We could have got off at Camden Town and walked here faster,” Celeborn complained. “My feet hurt now. I have never walked so much in all my life.”

 

“Be quiet!” I ordered. “All you do is go on and on about absolutely nothing.”  Celeborn had the grace to look slightly alarmed.

 

I can be an extremely imposing figure when driven to ire and he had experienced a small taste of my capacity to instill terror. I am not the sort of Vala who likes to frighten elves; they have gone through enough. I felt for their plight but Lord Eru had given me a job to do and I was not about to break his trust in me. Manwë would not have tolerated their behaviour; he has no finer sensibilities as far as elven emotions are concerned. Apart from Maglor, none of the elves realised just how lucky they were that I was the one sent to collect them.

 

“Who are you going to murder now?” Rúmil asked lightly.

 

“I am not enjoying this,” I told him.

 

“Neither are we,” Haldir said quickly.

 

“Ignore them,” Maglor said softly.

 

We reached the tiger exhibit and walked through the glass to where one of them was sleeping in the sun.  The other tiger was in a holding pen and being examined by Thranduil. Even from behind I recognised him. Another zoo worker stood to the side of Thranduil as he peered into the tiger’s open mouth. I have seen Thranduil kill a lion with his bare hands. He was being attacked and I stood by waiting for the lion to make the kill. It never happened. I doubted that this tiger would even make him flinch if it went for him.

 

The tiger looked bored and only just tolerated the examination of its teeth. I put it into Thranduil’s head that he was examining a warg; a fearsome creature, comparable to Galadriel during one of her more dramatic temper tantrums, I should imagine.

 

The stool flew back as Thranduil jumped to his feet. “By Eru; it is a warg!”

 

“What?” his co-worker asked. “He’s Lumpur; he’s a tiger.”

 

“I can’t look,” Haldir said.

 

“Neither can I,” Rúmil tittered.

 

“Fight the bloody thing, Thranduil,” Celeborn demanded, probably unaware that he could not be heard. “What are you? A wuss?”

 

The tiger leapt forward in a graceful arc and pinned Thranduil to the ground with its massive paws. His massive tongue licked his face. It seemed to me that the tiger liked his vet very much. Thranduil yelled at his co-worker to save himself and he would do the best he could to kill the warg. The long pink tongue continued to give his face a thorough wash.

 

Help came just as I reached into Thranduil’s body and took his fëa. There was not a mark on his skin and the tiger had started to nuzzle affectionately against his neck.

 

“Come on, Lumpur. Good boy,” Thranduil’s co-worker said as the other workers tried to revive him. The tiger leapt up and followed the man into the enclosure. He walked over to his mate and settled beside her, elongating his body in a luxurious stretch and yawning before closing his eyes to sleep.

 

For effect, and because I adore consistency, my fingers turned in a small circle and a swarm of butterflies flew upwards from Thranduil’s dead body. The group of zoo workers watched in amazement before continuing with chest compressions in the vain hope that Thranduil might be brought back from the dead. One of their number ordered that the doors be shut because the butterflies were unlike any he had ever seen before and he wanted to catch a few for the butterfly breeding programme.

 

“Oh, very clever,” Thranduil said to me. “I suppose you think you are being terribly witty making butterflies appear out of thin air?”

 

I shrugged. “Lord Eru desires that you return to Valinor. The Crystal Bridge is about to collapse and so you all have to go back as fëa. There is no way back otherwise.”

 

“I never wanted to go to Valinor!” Thranduil boomed loudly in my face. “Right, put me back inside my body. Do it now! I am the only vet in the world who can examine and treat dangerous animals without them needing to be sedated.”

 

“I dare not defy Lord Eru and neither should you.”

 

Thranduil walked back to where his body lay and laid down, no doubt thinking that his fëa would be assumed by the dead corpse. After a couple of minutes he stood up, admitting defeat.

 

“I am not very happy with you,” he complained. “When I get to Valinor I am going to put in a formal complaint about how you killed me. I will take it all the way to the top if I have to”

 

“Me too,” Rúmil said. “It’s no fun being run over by a lorry and then having to suffer the indignity of travelling on a bus used by the general public.”

 

Thranduil glared at me with renewed disgust. “You bastard,” he spat.

 

“He is a bloody toerag,” Celeborn said. “He stuffed my lungs full of strawberries.”

 

“Be quiet.” I glared at them. “Every single one of you, say nothing more. You are all sailing close to the edge.”

 

“It is not as though we have anything to lose,” Haldir muttered. “You have already taken our lives, what more can you do to us?”

 

Maglor sighed and shook his head, saying nothing.

 

“I can go back empty handed and you will exist as wraiths wandering the earth forever more.” That quietened them. “Right, off we go.”

 

“Where are we going?” Maglor asked. “I am quite enjoying our tour.”

 

I was almost sure that Haldir said something about Maglor being a crawly arsed bum lick but I did not hear it all so I could not be sure. I would be keeping my eye on him.

 

 


	8. Elladan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elladan is the lead guitarist in an outrageously famous rock band. He has a shiny, new, solid gold guitar that cost him a million pounds and is onstage, enjoying the adulation of his fans. How will he end up in Namo's collection? Butterflies abound!

We took the waterbus from the zoo to Camden Lock. Haldir announced that he loved going to the market there, but I was not inclined to let any of them browse the stalls because their behaviour had irked me to an extreme degree. We reached Camden Town Underground and took the Northern Line in a southward direction down to London Bridge and changed to the Jubilee Line where we travelled east to North Greenwich.

“Ah, the Millennium Dome,” Rúmil said. “It looks like an upside down hammock or a huge pancake splatted over something.”

“North Greenwich Arena, idiot,” Thranduil sniped.

“Still sore at being killed by an imaginary warg are you?” Rúmil shot back. Haldir and Celeborn laughed loudly.

“So who are you going to murder here?” Haldir asked brightly.

I sighed. It is not easy being a serial killer.

A charity concert was in full swing and bands from all over the world were appearing. A satellite feed was provided so that viewers could watch the concert and send money to fight world poverty. My quarry was a lead guitarist in an outrageously famous heavy rock band.

We walked through the crowds into the arena and stood near the front. Haldir and Rúmil remarked several times how strange it felt being able to pass through people. 

It was about fifteen minutes before the band we wanted to see came onto the stage; before that we had to listen to an insipid boy band singing about true love. They were barely out of nappies, what did they know about love? 

The next band was announced. Apparently, they were appearing early so they could fly to New York and appear at around one o’clock in the morning as the last act in a reciprocal concert being held there at the same time and collecting funds for the same cause.

Excited cheers and whistles erupted throughout the arena as the band walked onto the stage. They went straight into a song which I could hardly understand because they screamed the words and none were distinct. When I said this to Rúmil, he called me an old fart. Thranduil and Haldir agreed with him.

Elladan jumped around on stage, his nimble fingers torturing the strings of his shiny gold guitar. 

“He bought that guitar for a million pounds,” Celeborn told me, looking every inch the proud grandfather, even though he did not look a day over twenty five. “It is twenty-three carat gold. That is why it is called a Goldcaster.”

“That means nothing to me,” I replied.

“You are going to kill him. Aren’t you?” The excitement waned quickly. Celeborn had allowed himself to forget why we were there but looking at me had brought it all back.

“No.” I replied and it was the truth.

Elladan danced around still playing his golden guitar while the singer shouted and screamed for all he was worth, urging the audience to sing along with him. Then he danced up to Elladan and tried to kiss him. Anger flashed in Elladan’s face and he pushed the singer away. This was the moment. Slow motion.

“Nooooo...” Celeborn yelled as the singer pulled a gun from his waistband. He fired at Elladan, who was grinning at the cheering crowd and did not see him. His body spun around as the bullets tore through him. His face did not register his shock and horror until the last bullet. He looked at the lead singer with confusion, an accusation of betrayal in his eyes. As he fell, the lead singer stared at him before placing the gun in his own mouth. He pulled the trigger and blew his head away, spraying the screaming audience with his blood and brains.

Elladan’s fëa rose from his body along with a swarm of butterflies, amazing the paramedics who were already in position.

“Come with me,” I said to Elladan. A thin strand of light from his body wound around my wrist.

“He shot me. Why would he do that to me?”

Celeborn took hold of Elladan and held him close. “I told you he was an unstable bastard. The worst thing you ever did was to get into a relationship with him.”

“He ended it last week and was with someone else. He didn’t want me so why would he shoot me? Why would he do that?”

“It is over now,” I said gently. “Lord Eru desires that you go to Valinor.”

“It’s got to be better than here,” Elladan said, still looking stunned. “Can I take my new guitar? I paid a million quid for that.”

“The Valar would be very happy to give you a new one.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“No it won’t. The sound will be a million times sweeter than that jangly thing.”

“It’s meant to sound jangly.”

“Then I suppose they will give you a jangly sounding one!” I sighed and told the elves to follow me.

The whole arena was in uproar. The audience were asked to leave and file out in an orderly manner; the pleadings met with limited success. Television cameras focussed on the dead bodies of the lead singer and the paramedics trying to save Elladan’s life. The drummer sat with his forehead resting on one of the smaller drums and his body shook as he sobbed. The bass guitarist picked up Elladan’s blood splashed gold guitar and rested it against the drums before putting his arm around the drummer. One of the butterflies rested for a brief moment on the bridge of the guitar before flying away. Police and security guards swarmed all over, but we walked straight through them and left the building. Outside fans were screaming and crying, holding onto one another, some calm and others hysterical and all willing to tell what they saw to whoever would listen.

“Did you know this would happen?” Elladan asked me softly, his voice reflecting the shock he still felt.

“I knew you would die but not how it would happen. I am the Vala of Death, so I would come to collect you.”

“And if you are not expected to die then Lord Námo will make sure it happens anyway,” Haldir said brightly. 

Realisation hit Elladan. “Yes, how are you all here?”

“Every elf left in Middle-earth has to go back to Valinor,” I told him. He accepted my explanation of why I had to take them as fëa and did not make any of the smart remarks that his companions insisted on making. Maglor, as always, remained taciturn and I do not include him in my criticism of the other elves behaviour.

“Where are we going now?” Thranduil asked.

“To Leicester Square,” I replied.

“I say, are we going to the theatre?” Celeborn asked brightly. 

“No, we are not.”


	9. Legolas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is having a nightmare when Namo goes to collect him. Will Legolas be allowed to bring his friend with him? Why does Thranduil threaten Celeborn? Butterflies abound!

 

 

We took the Jubilee Line from North Greenwich in a westward direction to Waterloo, where we changed to the Northern Line and alighted at Leicester Square. Thranduil was delighted at being able to walk straight through the barriers without paying and remarked several times how Transport for London deserved to be ‘ripped off’. We exited the station and found the road was crowded with people and traffic even though it was mid-evening. It was most fortunate that we could walk through them otherwise I might have been irked to an unacceptable degree.

 

We walked down Cranbourn Street and turned a sharp right into St Martin’s Lane. About halfway down we came across a large white building with the words’ ‘Noel Coward’ etched on a frosted glass banner mounted on a decorative iron screen above the main entrance. To the side was a small alleyway: St Martin’s Court.

 

“I wonder if Sheekey’s shellfish restaurant is still here,” Celeborn said as we walked down the side of the theatre. He put his arm around Elladan. “Remember when we used to go there and you would stuff your face because you were a starving musician? I always said you would be famous, and I was right.”

 

We walked past the fish restaurant and around the back of the Noel Coward Theatre. Several homeless men were bedding down for the night in sleeping bags. One lay on his side, curled around a small dog, his dirty blond hair just visible under a dark green bobble hat.

 

“Legolas,” Thranduil said quietly. “I had no idea he was so near. We lost touch.”

 

“I always know where my grandsons are,” Celeborn smirked.

 

“Shut the fuck up before I kick your arse all over the street.” I would have said that Thranduil was certainly capable of doing such a thing. Unlike Celeborn, he had not let comfortable living get the better of him.

 

I knelt beside Legolas; he was hallucinating and whatever he saw terrified him beyond endurance. He babbled nonsense to all but me and the elves standing around him. His words brought back powerful images of his life during the quest. The memories had eaten away at his fëa until he was a shell of the elf he had once been. He was a reluctant hero and none saw the signs of his dismay until help had long disappeared from Middle-earth. The smell of dirt and cheap alcohol caught in my throat as I reached into him and took his fëa. A swarm of butterflies alighted from his body, delighting the people walking past. None realised that they were walking past a dead elf.

 

“I am glad you did not let him suffer,” Thranduil said as he took his son into his arms. It was clear, as he pulled away from his father, that Legolas would need help when we arrived in Valinor. The distress of ages does not simply vanish because a fëa is released from the body.

 

“My dog.” Legolas said. I looked down at the small creature; it was sniffing Legolas’ face and knocking his cheek with its nose. “She always does that when it is time to get up.”  He reached down to stroke the dog and his hand passed straight through her. A cry of anguish came from his lips and he curled up in grief. The dog gave a guttural howl, as if she could hear her friend and sense his distress.

 

“Can we take the dog?” Maglor asked. “I fear that she has been the only defence from the awfulness of his life. It would not be right to leave her homeless.”

 

I stood still, trying to communicate with Lord Manwë. After a few minutes I gave up. He could not, or would not, hear me. “I can take the dog’s fëa. Any weight at all on the Crystal Bridge will cause it to collapse. I do not know if she will be allowed to stay when we get there.”

 

“Do it,” Legolas said, his eyes pleading with me. “She has no one to look after her.”

 

I reached into the dog and took her fëa. I doubt she noticed the passing because she was so preoccupied with waking her dead friend. I gave her to Legolas and she licked his face, wriggled and barked with joy. He kissed her nose and laughed as she licked him some more. Such simple things are a joy to see and I doubt any of us were left unaffected.

 

No one noticed the dead homeless man or his unmoving dog. No one cared. We walked away and I took one last glimpse before turning the corner. They were still alone, garnering no attention at all. What sort of society is it where people can walk past those in distress and not help?

 

Neither Rúmil or Haldir had said anything while I took Legolas’ fëa, however, my peace did not last long. “Is this it or are you going to murder someone else?” Haldir asked.

 

“I am tired of trooping all over the bloody country. Surely you have done with your mass murder spree?” Rúmil yawned.

 

“Devon and London is hardly the whole country,” I smirked. “I have one more fëa to collect and then there will be no more elves left in Middle-earth.”

 

“Why can’t we just leave them here?” Thranduil asked. “After all, they might not want to live in the land of milk and honey. I know I don’t.”

  

“Because we are going to collect my grandson, idiot!” Celeborn snarled.

 

“Talk to me like that and I will...”

 

“Stop it! STOP IT!” Legolas shrieked, the agony of his being showing plainly on his face. “Just stop.”

 

Maglor put his arm around Legolas’ shoulder and softly told him that everything would be all right. He stroked his dog between the ears and told her to stop barking. She calmed down once she was certain that her master was all right. Thranduil looked on, no doubt wishing he had said nothing.

 

We spent the night in a cinema watching a marathon all-night showing of horror films. Most of the plots were variations on a single storyline: a group of young adults being hunted by someone who had a grudge from the past and killing them in a variety of horrible ways. I have no idea why Haldir, Elladan, Celeborn, Legolas and Thranduil chuckled all the way through them. Thranduil was particularly delighted that he did not have to pay for his seat. During the morning we visited several tourist attractions without paying, thus making Thranduil an extremely happy elf. The most memorable moment was when we rose up into the air on the London Eye. We could see the City spread out before us, going beyond the horizon.

 

 


	10. Elrohir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrohir is the reverend of a church in an upmarket village in Essex. He has decided to open the church at night to homeless people and offer them shelter, food and cups of tea. His bosses are not happy about it and neither are the local residents who are holding protests outside the church. The BBC arrives and things get out of hand. Butterflies abound!

“We are going to Chigwell in Essex. The last elf is the reverend of a church there.” I gave them my most sardonic smile. “In my opinion Elrohir will actually be a loss for those who depend on him.”

“My grandson Elrohir is a reverend? What on earth for?” It seemed to me that Celeborn was not in that close contact with his kin.

“Yes he is. Now we have to get an underground train from Leicester Square. We need to travel on the Piccadilly Line for two stops to Holborn and then get on a Central Line train to Chigwell.”

“I hope we don’t have to walk for miles when we get there,” Haldir whined. “You know what these rural places are like.”

“None of Essex is rural anymore,” Celeborn chuckled. “The whole lot is a huge conurbation of London. That is why I live on the river. Such parties I have had on my little houseboat. You would not believe how many times the police have broken up my little get-togethers.” He sighed wistfully and smiled. “Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and I once stood on the roof and sung our hearts out. The police said our speakers were too loud but I told them that they were talking out of their arses, which they were. It was worth the night in the cells and the fifty pound fine.”

“Well you won’t be having any more parties now that he has killed you,” Haldir shrugged, pointing at me.

“Thanks for reminding me.” Celeborn looked annoyed for an instance before brightening up again. “I daresay there is a river in Valinor where I can float a new houseboat. I just hope it is in a fashionable area. I could not bear to live like an uncultured poor person.”

We travelled to Chigwell; it was late afternoon and the sun shone brightly into the carriage. Haldir whined because he did not have a pair of sunglasses. Rúmil told him that screwing his eyes up would give him wrinkles and advised him to shade them with his hand instead. As if a fëa can acquire wrinkles; these elves had been in Middle-earth far too long.

Changing stations at Holborn was complicated by Legolas’ dog running off with him in pursuit. He caught her as she was jumping up at an unsteady woman wearing a green feather boa. Happily, the woman was oblivious to the little ghost dog trying to eat her clothing accessories.

We arrived at Chigwell and walked down the High Road in a westerly direction. On both sides of the road were large houses, set in their own grounds and away from the edge of the pavement. 

“I wonder what sort of person lives here,” Legolas said quietly.

“Someone like me,” Thranduil answered. “You could have lived there too if you had accepted the help you needed.”

Legolas shot his father a look of pure hate and I could see Thranduil was wounded. When we arrived back in Valinor I would have to compile a report of my journey, but this would need a more rapid attention. It was obvious that something was vastly wrong with Legolas and I had no idea what it was or what part Thranduil had played in it. 

“There’s my house.” Thranduil pointed to a small Georgian mansion behind a set of high double wrought iron gates. The police were knocking on the door and we watched as his housekeeper opened it. They spoke for a few minutes before going into the house. Thranduil looked upset when he saw his housekeeper dabbing her red eyes with a handkerchief. “Let’s go. I have made provisions for her and the animals in case of my death. It would hurt too much to say goodbye.”

“You loved your animals more than me,” Legolas accused.

“Well they never tried to burn me to death in my own bed,” Thranduil shot back.

“You deserved it,” Legolas sniped. He was unable to say anything more because Maglor told him to be quiet. Maglor rarely says anything but perhaps he has more gravity because of that. Either way, he was effective.

We arrived at St. Mary’s church, about fifty yards away from where Thranduil used to live. He expressed astonishment that Elrohir had been so near, but then he reasoned that as he never went to church he should not be surprised at all. He had no idea who the reverend was but he was familiar with the scene that greeted us when we arrived.

Outside the church was a group of people with banners shouting that the reverend should be sacked. They aimed their attentions to the occasional people driving past, oblivious to our presence. We walked through them and into the locked church. The pews were full of people who seemed to be very poor indeed. Sleeping bags were rolled out on the floor, I suppose in readiness for the night ahead, and a couple of dogs were already curled up and fast asleep. The people chattered while waiting, for what I did not know. Thranduil, Elladan and Celeborn wrinkled their noses at the smell. Maglor seemed not to notice. I could not see Rúmil or Haldir because they had wandered off to look at the Norman sheltered doorway.

“My people.” Legolas gave a sarcastic smile. “No wonder the protestors were shouting about property prices.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“They are homeless and this church is their refuge. There is very little safety sleeping rough,” Legolas replied. “It’s good that they were allowed to bring their dogs in.”

“Why are there so many dogs?”

“For companionship and because you make more money when begging. No one likes to see a dog starve.” Legolas grinned. “Not everyone owns a dog but they are handy to have.”

Near the Lady Chapel was a stand serving tea and coffee. Elrohir walked in from the back of the church with a huge shepherd’s pie in a large oblong metal tin.

“First come, first served,” he called cheerily. “Mrs Hart has the veg and she is bringing it through.” He winked at a young girl who blushed prettily. “Save some for yourself, Daisy. If we are to do the Lord’s work then we have to keep our strength up as well.”

Daisy smiled at Elrohir before running a knife through the shepherd’s pie and sectioning it into portions.

“If I had known he was behind this I would have thrashed his arse,” Thranduil said to Celeborn. “Property prices have crashed since this church started letting homeless people stay here. None of them want to work and they are all on drugs.”

“All areas go downhill sooner or later,” Celeborn smirked. “Yours before mine, it seems.”

“Not this area,” Thranduil countered. “At least not until this church started letting poor people hang around here.”

The noise from the crowd outside was becoming louder. I poked my head through the wall and saw that a vehicle with the letters BBC on it had just arrived.

I wandered to the back of the church and found Elrohir in a small office. He was talking into a mobile phone. It seems that they are everywhere. Rúmil had one and bemoaned the fact that it was crushed by the wheels of the lorry when he was run over. Perhaps he thought he could take it with him. I think the only one in the party who did not own such an instrument was Maglor. Even Legolas had one, which I did not expect with him being so poor.

“Look, I will not stop homeless people seeking refuge here. The end of summer has come and winter will be fast upon us. If we have a winter like last year then people will freeze to death.... Jesus would not have turned them away ..... Are we true Christians or do we just play at being so?” Elrohir seemed more agitated as the conversation went on.

“How does he believe in Jesus? Lord Eru is our deity.” Elladan asked from behind me. He nearly made me jump, but as I am the Vala of Death, I refuse to be surprised by anything and so he did not.

“Lord Eru is everyone’s deity,” I replied. “However he is perceived and whatever he is called, he is the figurehead in nearly every religion and their paths lead to him. You know him as Lord Eru but the people outside here know him as God.”

“I wasn’t talking about God; I said Jesus.”

“Yes, I know.”

Elrohir stared at us. “I have to go now,” he told whoever he was talking to on his phone. I could hear the person speaking but he cut them off without saying a further word. “What are you doing here?”

“Lord Eru has ordered that the remaining elves in Middle-earth are to return home,” I replied. “The Crystal Bridge cannot take any weight so you have to return as a fëa.” I was hoping that we still had time. The sun was going down and this would be my third night in Middle-earth. 

“I am needed here.”

“Look,” Elladan exclaimed, pointing to the television as Elrohir glared at me. “There is a news story about Legolas dying in the street and people walking past him for hours. They are saying that several people across the South East have died and butterflies have risen from their bodies.”

“Yes, it was on an hour ago as well,” Elrohir smirked. “Apparently, the dead are all male with pointed ears. There is a dead dog as well, who I believe also has pointed ears. All the deaths are being treated as suspicious, simply because of the butterflies, but most of them are expected to be judged as accidental or due to natural causes after the investigations have finished.” He looked at Elladan. “I saw on the news last night that you were shot dead by your former lover. Your solicitor has already been in touch to advise about the post mortem and the will. I was making plans for your funeral, but I think that perhaps I will not need to do so now.”

“That was quick.” 

“I have the feeling that I will not be inheriting anything either,” Elrohir said dryly. “It was a nice thought though. Thank you. My will is made out to various homeless charities, so I guess that is where your fortune will go as well.”

“I am happy with that,” Elladan smiled.

In the main church a window smashed and we heard yelling and screaming. We heard more glass breaking as we ran through from the back office. Several bottles stuffed with lit rags flew through the broken window and hit the floor and a couple of the people trying to flee. The contents spilt and burnt rapidly. The smell would have taken my breath away if I had not been the Vala of Death and above such things. Fire was everywhere and the people were clawing at the exit doors that were fast shut; we found out afterwards that they were barricaded on the outside. The whole place was in flames and terror swept through the crowd as they began to burn. I do not think that I will ever forget their screams and I will always wonder how men can mistreat their own so willingly, prizing material possessions above life. My hand turned in a wide circle and the flames left the people and whooshed up to the ceiling instead. The dark wooden beams creaked in the heat, as if they would snap at any moment. We looked up, wondering if the whole lot would come crashing down. 

Meanwhile, Elrohir ran to the back office to grab a fire extinguisher and an axe. He came back about thirty seconds later and told us that masked people had thrown petrol bombs through the windows and that the news was showing it live. “There is a huge crowd out there baying for my blood,” he said almost cheerfully. “Well, they can’t have it.”

“What can we do?” Maglor asked me.

“You can touch things or let your hand pass straight through,” I told him. Indeed, he should have known this: when we were on the train we did not fall through the floor, so it should have been obvious.

Maglor took the axe from Elrohir, ordering everyone to stand back, and swung it in a wide arc, smashing it against the doors. Several times he did this until the door broke, and then he and the other elves pushed forward the vehicle that was rammed against the doors, so the people behind them could escape.

Outside we could see the police and the fire fighters. The air cooled as it rained water inside the church and Elrohir breathed a sigh of relief. Outside we could hear the protesters being abusive to the people who escaped. They were throwing things at them and the police did hardly anything to stop them. I wondered if their property prices had plummeted as well.

“I must go out and talk to them,” Elrohir said. “Let them see that what they are doing is very wrong. Some of my parishioners are in that crowd and they would have come here Sunday morning as though nothing had happened.” He stepped out into the night.

A television reporter ran up to Elrohir as the crowd abused him. He smiled and explained that being a Christian meant actually going out of one’s way to help others and that was what he was doing. The abuse from the crowd grew louder and the police tried to stop them from breaking through the barricades they had set up. 

“Oh look, the riot police are here,” Celeborn chuckled. “Now we are going to see some action.” 

Several large vans blocked off the road and a horde of policemen with shields and batons ran towards the main crowd. Meanwhile a couple of ambulance personnel were treating the burns of the people hurt in the church. 

Elrohir could not make himself heard above the din. He talked louder and then everything went in slow motion. It was not the death I would have chosen for Elrohir, intending to make his departure as painless as possible and looking for a way to make it plausible. I do not like leaving questions unanswered. A bottle with a lit rag stuffed in the open end sailed through the air and hit Elrohir’s head before smashing on the ground in front of him and splashing the contents up his trousers.

Flames consumed Elrohir. He whirled around in a shocked panic, screaming in agony, arms outstretched as if trying to save them from his fiery core. I smelt his hair burning as his head was consumed in flames. I acted swiftly but the fire was faster so I could not save him the agony of burning. I waved my hand and the flames leapt away from him and floated upwards forming a ball, waiting for me to direct them. Elladan and Maglor threw Elrohir to the ground and rolled him over, beating the smoking areas out with their hands. The ambulance men ran towards us, holding equipment in their arms. I reached into Elrohir and took his fëa before standing up. It was time for the world to see me as I truly was.

I stood over Elrohir’s body and turned my hand a quarter circle while the hushed crowd watched. A million butterflies rose up and crowded the night sky. The crowd gasped in amazement as the swarms flew upwards, temporarily obliterating the light from the moon overhead. I suspect the whole protest had gone much further than any intended it to and they would have rather been anywhere but there at that moment. Already, the police were handcuffing people.

“Who are you,” a young woman asked, pushing a black thing in my face as I became visible. I pushed it away. “It’s a microphone and will pick up your voice so we can broadcast it.”

“Will the whole world be able to hear what I have to say?”

“Yes.” She blinked a couple of times and smiled nervously, no doubt awed by my Vala of Death appearance. 

I looked into a telescreen. There I was, around seven foot tall with long black hair that moved of its own accord and large black, fathomless eyes. Around my head sat a circlet of glowing stars that had no material substance and were made purely of light.

“I am the Vala of Death,” I told her. “I come in the name of Lord Eru, to take home the last remaining elves who lived in Middle-earth. When elves die, butterflies rise from their bodies...” I had intended explaining my actions so the humans would understand the events of the past two days but she interrupted me. 

“Are you the Butterfly Killer?” she asked, breathless with excitement.

“Do not be an idiot,” I replied loftily. “I am Lord Námo, the Vala of Death and I have come to take the elves back to their home. I am also the Vala of Vengeance.” My hand reached up into the sky and the flames sat in a ball on the palm of my hand.

“That’s really dangerous,” one of the fire fighters shouted at me. I ignored him.

The ball of fire floated on my palm and I spoke to it, words promising terrible vengeance upon those who had burnt Elrohir. The flames rose in the air and split into six parts before racing away at light speed. If an innocent could be consumed by fire, so could those who would wish him such a terrible death.

“That’s a neat trick,” the woman grinned. “How did you do it? Do you put special stuff on your palms or something? Why were you talking to the fire? How did you get it to go off in different directions?” 

I bade the elves to stand in line and then I lifted their invisibility. The crowd gasped and most of them pointed to Elrohir and Elladan, simply because they were the most well known out of the group. How satisfying it was to see the reaction of all who were gathered there, especially as the elves appeared as they used to be, glowing with an inner light and even fairer of face than before the cares of living in such a nasty world had overcome them. 

“Take a good look. These are the last elves you will ever see in Middle-earth. Now, we must go. The Crystal Bridge is awaiting our passing and I fear we have already overstayed our welcome.” I waved my hand and we became invisible before Haldir and Rúmil could whine about how I murdered them. It seemed likely; their mouths were already open to speak.

The crowd looked around, dumbstruck. The young woman shouted to a man in the truck with BBC on the side, asking if they had the whole lot recorded and was delirious with joy when they affirmed that they did.


	11. Morte Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group make the journey across the country to Morte Point.

 

 

 

We passed through the crowd and made our way to Thranduil’s house. In his garage he had a vehicle called a Range Rover and we all piled in. He drove and so I made him visible. It would not do for the police to spot a car driving all by itself. “Where to?” he asked before turning the key for the ignition.

 

“To Devon. Morte Point to be precise. It’s near Woolacombe.”

 

 

“It would be really good if you could wave that hand of yours and make us all appear in Devon without having to ride there,” Haldir sighed.

 

“Well I can’t. So shut up,” I told him, tiring of his ceaseless complaints.

 

Thranduil switched on a device sitting on the dashboard. He tapped it a few times and then announced that the ‘Tom Tom’ was loaded and he would not need directions from Rúmil, who was telling him the best way to go.

 

“People have driven off cliffs using those things,” Rúmil sniffed.

 

“Well beings as we are already dead, it won’t matter,” Thranduil shot back.

 

We turned off the High Road and proceeded down the Southend Road until we reached the North Circular. Celeborn remarked that during the day the road was impassable whereas during the night it was much easier to navigate. The road led off to the Great West Road, which in turn led off to the M4. We stayed on that road for over an hour and then spent another couple of hours travelling on the M5. All that was visible were the lights in the roads and powerful lights beaming down from above. The horizon was dark and I could see nothing in the distance.

 

“I am glad we do not have motorways in Valinor. They are so boring.” There was nothing to break up the monotony but I dared not sleep just in case Thranduil stopped the car and they tried to escape. Happily, their fëa were all tethered to my wrist but I expected they would still try. No one answered. Maybe they thought I was boring as well.

 

After leaving the M5, Thranduil announced that we would be travelling on A roads and they would be less boring. After another tedious hour we reached our destination. It was still dark as we drove through the town of Woolacombe. We exited the town near the coast and continued our journey south to Morte Pointe.

 

“Here we are,” Thranduil announced.

 

The elven fëar slowly came to life, stretching their arms and legs, while whining about how they had to sleep in a strange position and would probably ache for the rest of the day. I was fast losing patience with them and did not bother telling them that they would not be in any pain because they were dead.

 

We piled out of the Range Rover and stood on the edge of Morte Pointe, looking out to sea. The Crystal Bridge glimmered in the starlight.

 

“It looks a bit tumbledown,” Maglor murmured. “I can see why it would carry no weight.”

 

“We had to die because Lord Manwë couldn’t be bothered to keep up the repairs on a bridge?” Haldir asked loudly. He seemed somewhat irate but I could not be bothered to answer him.

 

 

 


	12. The Crystal Bridge - Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group start to cross the Crystal Bridge, but it falls away from beneath their feet.

 

 

A sea breeze gently fanned our faces. The ocean stood calm, its surface like a mirror reflecting the stars overhead. Here was the point of no return. All was still and quiet. We did not belong in this world anymore. It was time to go home.

 

I stepped off the large rock and the elven fëar followed, still bound to me. We floated down to the surface of the sea and walked towards the Crystal Bridge, which seemed to beckon us in one last act of being before it crumbled forever. No one uttered a word as we walked forward; each of us consumed with our own thoughts or perhaps not thinking at all.

 

“I hope it does not fall down before we get to the other side,” Legolas said as a small part of the bridge fell away from the side.

 

“We do not have much time,” I told them. “We need to hurry.”

 

The fëar floated alongside me as I stepped onto the bridge, not sure if it would hold my slight weight. I have very little substance, being nearly weightless at will; however, I suspect even the mass of a feather could have made this bridge collapse. It really was at the last point of existence.

 

“Hurry,” Legolas urged as I walked to the apex. “The bridge is collapsing behind us.”

 

“If I walk faster I will be increasing the impact weight of my steps, so I dare not.”

 

“We are all going to drown,” Haldir sighed.

 

“The dead cannot drown,” I reminded them.

 

We reached the apex and then we made our descent. When just past the apex, the sun shone brightly. It was already daytime in Valinor. If the Crystal Bridge collapsed we would fall into Valinor waters. Middle-earth was behind us and I had delivered the elves home, just as Lord Manwë ordered me to.

 

Halfway during the descent the bridge collapsed and fell into the water, never to be seen or used again. Already, crowds were gathering on the Alqualondë harbour watching a flotilla of boats wending towards us. I smiled as we remained up in the air.

 

“It looks wonderful,” Rúmil gasped as he looked towards land.

 

Haldir smiled. “Could be worse.”

 

Legolas grinned, the first time I had seen him do so since collecting him. “It’s a new start,” he said while stroking his dog between the ears. Thranduil agreed with him.

 

“Do they have electric guitars here?” Elladan asked and sighed with disappointment when I replied that there was no such thing in this land.

 

“We will be living in a simpler society,” Elrohir smiled. ”There is nothing wrong with that.”

 

Celeborn frowned. “They do have houseboats here, don’t they?”

 

Maglor looked overjoyed. “I still cannot believe that I was allowed to return home.” He looked at me. “I want to thank Lord Eru for his grace.”

 

“He already knows,” I reassured him. I turned to the others. “Our destination is the Halls of Waiting. You are all fëar and that is where they go.”

 

Every single elf looked as if I had betrayed them. Now Rúmil and Haldir actually had something concrete to moan about. Sunlight turned to grey and we were within the Halls where form and substance is subjective at best.

 

“You can stay together until Lord Manwë decides your destinies,” I told them as I constructed a room-like interior from nothing. It was comfortable and spacious and as much like a dwelling in Middle-earth that I could remember.  “Lord Eru has plans for each of you and after a while spent here you will all be reborn.”

 

“REBORN?” Celeborn was outraged. “I like being who I am now, thank you very much!”

 

The others agreed with him, except for Maglor, Legolas and Elrohir, which I expected actually. I urged them to speak to Lord Manwë about their predicament and left the room that I had just created. From outside I could see them, but they could not see me beyond the walls. I smiled as I listened.

 

“Right, let’s escape and find a way back.”

 

“Yes, let’s form a committee.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

I wished them all the luck in Valinor. I just hoped that I would not have to be the one to recover them.

 

 

 


End file.
